Postmarked Oregon
by KSUnsungHero
Summary: There was no return address, but the little red circle at the top of the envelope told him all he needed to know.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: There aren't too many post-Informed stories, so here's my little contribution. I thought about doing more than one chapter. Tell me if this puts you to sleep.

Elliot groaned as the stack of mail he'd been carrying slid to the floor and scattered about the tile. He sighed and bent down to retrieve the envelopes. One in particular caught his eye, and he slowly picked it up. The rest were forgotten as he made his way to the couch. There was no return address, but the little red circle at the top of the envelope told him all he needed to know. He turned the envelope over and dug his finger under the flap before sliding it across to reveal the contents. Peering inside, he sat down on the edge of the couch.

The paper had been ripped out of a notebook and bits of paper fell to the floor as he separated the pages. It reminded him of the many times he'd found the same speckles in the hallway from his kids' homework. He smoothed out the pages on his knee and studied the condition of the paper. While still fresh, the ink had been rubbed and smeared in places, leaving blue streaks where white space should have been. A dirty finger print rested in the top margin near the date. Frowning at where she could have been when writing the letter, he began to read.

_Elliot._ Not El. Not even Stabler. It began with a simple Elliot.

_I know you must have a million and one questions to ask, only one of which I can answer. That is, if you're wondering. I'm okay._ Okay. Not fine, the usual answer when everything is in fact…fine. He read further, noticing that the ink was getting harder to read.

_I also know you probably called a dozen times the day you found out. Please don't be mad. It was out of my control. Keep calling, please._ His heart sank upon reading the last line. How could he ever stop? If she only knew how many times a day he'd picked up the phone to dial the familiar number, only to be told the number had been disconnected by some voice other than her own.

_The door wasn't my idea, either. I'll have to give you a new key when I get back. I don't know when that will be. Don't forget to feed Fred, okay?_ Fred. The imaginary fish they'd made up in jest. He could still hear her laughter as they joked about the little beta and the smile that graced her face when he offered to get her a real one. She'd just patted his shoulder and shrugged, saying that she was never home.

_I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I couldn't. It wasn't just some other way to distance myself from you again. Please don't think it was. I regret leaving in the first place. The reason I left before was the same reason I came back months later. I missed all the complications that I was running away from. I missed you_. He still pictured her empty desk and how it had been cleared off, once again, for a brief period.

_You know, I miss the guys, too. I miss Munch's coffee. Don't tell him, though, or he'll get a complex and start making it every day. I don't want to be the reason the squad revolts. I miss the peeling paint in the women's bathroom and the tile hanging from above the last stall. Someone should fix it._ She was rambling. Biding her time, maybe. She sounds so lonely.

_Sorry about the stationery. I collected enough change to send this and I bummed some paper and a pen off a college school student earlier. She's studying criminal justice. I almost let the cat out of the bag on that one. It would have been nice talking to her, woman-to-woman. I can't remember a time I didn't want to do what I do. Except now._ She really didn't have a choice. He realized he'd started to clench the paper in his hands and pulled on the sides to fix the creases. They all had blamed her, at first. A sense of guilt washed over him. Something else took its place, though, as he started to read again.

_They're coming back soon with the supplies. The authorities here aren't like they are back home. They're not as quick. We're ten steps ahead of them, but I think they're getting smarter. A new week brings a different town. I wish they'd hurry. I've never been this far under before. I don't even know who I am anymore._ She wants to be caught. By the feds? By the cops? She wants it to be over. If he knew exactly where she was, he'd bring her home. Somehow.

_You'd like the cathedral we're hanging out at tonight. They don't care too much as long as we're gone by sunrise. I almost went in today. I wouldn't know what to do if I did. I don't think He likes me too much right now._ She's living on the streets. Her writing gets worse and he wonders why. Is she cold? Is she getting enough to eat? Sleep?

_I have to go. I hear them coming. Tell the guys I said hi. Save a seat for me._ It was crossed out but he could read it all the same. _Keep my seat warm. _She knew he'd get another partner, but it wasn't the same. She wasn't Olivia.

_P._ She didn't use her real name. She couldn't. She was right. She was in deep, and he was scared for her. He'd never seen her afraid for her own safety before. He re-read the letter over-and-over. Each time, he had to stop reading at that one point.. He grew more concerned as the seconds ticked by. He wondered what she was doing. He hoped they were treating her right. He prayed the church would take care of her, would listen to her heart and know she wasn't a bad person. Most of all, he hoped she came home soon; in one piece. He stilled his shaking hands and folded the piece of paper back up. He slid it back into the envelope and stared at the little red circle. He had some research to do.


	2. Chapter 2

He waited for the second letter for over a week. He wondered if he'd get one at all. When he spotted the envelope, he couldn't help but smile. It was the only connection he'd had with her. He'd told the guys, all of which were glad to know how she was doing. They said they understood her situation. All but Munch.

He'd looked up where Eugene was. It sounded nice. All of Oregon sounded nice. He wasn't sure why she was there or where she was going. He had a pad in the top drawer of his desk at work. There was only one item on it, so far. He wasn't sure what he'd do with the information, but it was one way of keeping track of her whereabouts. He tore open the flap and smiled at what he saw. Shaking his head, he unfolded the rose-colored paper. Little hearts lined the sides, and he couldn't help but laugh.

_Hey, partner. I wanted to write last week but I didn't have a chance to get away for very long. Uncle Sam has kept me busy. I get a few dollars a week. Nothing noticeable. The group would get suspicious. It's amazing what you can buy at one of those dollar stores. What do you think of the paper?_ Pink, Olivia?

_It's been pretty nice here. I expected more rain, I guess. I've never been here before, but I've always wanted to go. I didn't get a chance to bring my tennis shoes. I'll never complain again about walking around back home._ She sounds different. As if she's accepted that she isn't going home for a while.

_Tonight we're in the forest. Pretty fitting for this region, huh? I've never seen anything like it. The trees are so big. I've never thought about how many are cut down to make paper like the kind I'm writing on. I don't agree with the way we do things, but I understand the reasoning behind it._ The way they do things. Bombs. Explosives. Who knows what else? His heart went out to her. Is she in danger?

_My mother almost moved here. I never told you that. One day after school, I saw a bus ticket on the counter. I don't remember how old I was. She'd forgotten to put it away. I asked her what it was for and she started crying. I never brought it up again. It wasn't until later on after she passed away that I saw she had some family there. I always wondered why she stuck around._ He felt the moisture collect behind his eyes, and had to blink several times to clear his vision. He stared at the paper so hard his eyes crossed. He pictured little Olivia Benson; too young to understand that her mother was planning on abandoning her. He didn't know a lot about her childhood. He shook his head and continued.

_There's one person here that I've gotten to know. You learn a lot about someone when you're traveling. She has a little boy that got taken away after she quit showing up to pick him up from school. He doesn't know that when she's in town she stops by the playground to watch him play. I learned the first year on the job not to judge people's choices in life. I keep reminding myself of that now._ He let out a sigh of relief. For what, he wasn't sure. Just to know she had someone to talk to, was enough for him to function without her for the time being. To know that, for the past two weeks, she hasn't been alone.

_I think about kids, you know? I see all the bad out here and I'm scared to death. How do you protect someone so young and innocent? How's Fred?_ Fred. A diversion from the topic she didn't want to discuss any further. She was afraid. Of what? Of the group? Society? He often wished she'd had a child or two. She'd be a great mother, if the right man came along. She deserved a family.

_The stars are out tonight. You can't see them that well in the city. I wish I had paid more attention to the constellations when I was in school. You'll have to ask Dickie what the technical term for the big dipper is._ She sounds peaceful. Content.

_I'm PMS'ing. I'm sure you wanted to know that. I bet your face is turning red, isn't it? No pun intended. Was that a pun?_ He chuckled as he thought of the time she'd been at work and had started to feel bad. After an hour of watching her try to focus on work, he'd gone down to the corner store and gotten her a chocolate bar and a box of Midol. He wouldn't go down the other aisle. She was on her own on that one. He'd never forget the look of astonishment on her face when he dropped the bag onto her desk. At the time, he'd simply shrugged it off, saying he didn't want to have to deal with her hormones any longer. Secretly, though, he just didn't want to see her in pain.

_I washed my hands before sending this one. You're welcome. I miss the long, hot showers I used to take before work and the way the pipes would rattle after the fifteen minute mark. Maybe that's nature's way of telling me to conserve water. I think I've been hanging out here too long._ Fifteen minutes? He'd always pegged her as the 'get in and get out' type.

_It's brighter out here. I miss my sunglasses. One of the guys used to be a weather major back in college. He went on a rant the other day about how people claim to know about the weather. The next time anyone says it's too cold to snow, I'll think of him._ _I don't know his real name. Maybe I'll find out before I leave._ Elliot peered out the blinds of his apartment. It was snowing upstate. He recalled a conversation about her having never made a snow angel before. He'd pulled over to the side of the road and told her he wasn't moving until she got out and made one. She didn't budge, but as he pulled away she thanked him, saying how much of a stubborn son-of-a-bitch he was.

_I missed someone's birthday, but I can't remember whose. I'm not even sure what the date is, just that we've got an "event" coming up. I wonder how that one is going to play out. I'm pretty sure I hate the smell of gasoline. Among others._ He wondered where Star was and how much longer she was going to drag his partner all over the state of Oregon. As silly as it sounded, he wished it had been his birthday instead of Fin's. He'd have wished for her to come back.

_I threw up twice yesterday. Nothing today, yet. Just a friendly reminder, don't drink lake water. The girl I told you about held my hair back while the guys went on their way. A real family, we are. You can tell she's seen enough spit up and runny noses as a mother._ Elliot thought of the time he'd seen her lose it. Back then, he'd let her have her privacy and simply offered her a mint. If he had it to do all over again, he'd have gone over there and done the same thing that woman had for her. That's what partners do. It wasn't in the initial job description, but he was sure it was in an amended version.

_I have to go now. It's getting dark and I can't see to write. I'll send this in the morning. There's a little post office a few blocks away from where we're meeting up next. By the time you get this, it'll be all over the news._ He quickly grabbed the envelope and read the date. Four days. He did the mental math and when nothing added up, he turned on the television. He held the letter in his left hand and flipped the channels with the thumb of his right. His heart beat faster as he approached the news stations. The channels that would tell him what had happened. He found nothing. Not even in the scroll at the bottom of the screen. Of course he'd missed it. It had happened days ago, whatever it was. He hadn't heard anything. Maybe that was a good sign.

_Thanks for listening to me ramble. I'll write more next week. Don't forget to ask Dickie about the stars. _

_PJ._ _That's what they call me. (Sounds like a sandwich, doesn't it?)_ He flipped the television off and read the last line again. It took a while before he remembered what the second letter was. He realized he didn't even know all of the initials of her real name. He regretted that the letter had to end. He folded up the pink paper and carefully placed it back in its original home before placing it next to the other. With nothing else to do, he trudged down the hall and into the bedroom. The quicker he got to sleep, the quicker it would be the next day. The closer he would be to finding out where she was when she'd written the letter. He prayed for another to come soon.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I may have to wrap this up soon, being that I'm keeping it in line with what's going on w/ Olivia in the show. I am super excited. Not kidding you, I clapped like a little girl when I saw the previews for the next new ep. On a side note, I apologize if these posts are short. The way is set up is different than It looks so much shorter on here:(

It's been two weeks since the last letter. Elliot could see the pattern on the stationery through the thin, cheap envelope encasing it. Small circles spotted the pale, blue paper. He ripped one corner of the envelope and tore across the top. Quickly, he unfolded the letter. The loops in her cursive were exaggerated and he wondered why she'd written that way.

_Hey, stranger. You didn't forget about me, did you_ Forget? Never. He leaned into the side of the couch and tucked his feet under him as he read what she had to say. The little orbs were bubbles, circling in and out of colored fish that were frozen on the paper. An arrow pointed to one fish in particular. He could just make out a line above the fish's mouth. _My mommy misses you. _He laughed at the way she'd drawn a little name tag on the fish's fin.

_Do you know where we're headed yet? I know you've been keeping track of where I've been. I'm not even sure, myself. I heard the town is small, though._ The color abruptly changes and he can see indentations on each side of the paper where she'd tried in vain to get the pen to work again.

_I hope you can read my writing. I had to scrap the last letter. You know how clumsy I can be. I sort of sliced my hand open earlier. I ruined your letter two sentences in. I've been assured that there is no permanent damage to my gun hand. You should have seen the hoops I had to go through to get into the clinic. Don't freak, but I passed out. It got me in quicker, though. I got a candy bar out of the deal, too, so it wasn't all bad._ Elliot rubbed his tired eyes and tried to digest all of the information he'd just been flooded with. Thought after thought ran through his mind, each painting a picture he didn't care to look at. She'd been injured and had passed out. Low blood sugar, most likely. He felt his face grow flush and balled his fists up, nearly tearing the paper in half.

_We lost someone yesterday. The girl I told you about. I never knew her real name. I feel so guilty for not getting to know her. Really know her. Now it's too late. Her little boy turns six in a couple months. She was saving up for a present. She's okay, though. I guess she and I had a lot more in common than I thought. I wonder how many of us there are. I think I'm the only one left. _He swallowed hard, trying to get over the first part of the paragraph. His heart thumped softer and softer until it returned to its normal rhythm. Lost someone. His first thought had been the place he told his children about where people wear white robes and sing songs with their grandmas and grandpas. He wondered the same thing she did. How many informants were they risking? When would Olivia be the lucky one to be let go?

_I got ten dollars this week. I'm really raking it in now. I'll never complain about our salary again. You'll be getting a bill for the clinic I went to. It took some finessing, but I got it all figured out in the end. They ask a lot of questions in those places. In the second drawer on the right of my desk, there's a credit card for emergencies. Use it. I mean it._ The writing changed ever so-slightly. Was her hand hurting her? He thought of her stubbornness and how she'd do further damage just so she could contact him. Typical Olivia. It had scared the hell out of him when he'd seen the bill. It wasn't the amount that concerned him. He'd paid it without a second thought. It was the purpose of the bill that bothered him. He let out a sigh of relief that it was only her hand. It was only her hand. Deep laceration, that's what it had said. The vagueness of the injury had his mind going places he didn't care for it to go.

_They're starting to get suspicious. I've learned to think on my toes. You know what my inspiration is? Your daughter. She's gotten herself out of so many binds. She's got you wrapped around her little finger. The funny thing is that you know it. I'll have to thank her._ He glanced over at the frame of his twins. Lizzie had a look like she was planning her next move. He'd told Olivia once about the time he'd walked into her room after she'd flushed her sister's essay down the toilet. He'd interrupted the beginnings of a speech that would have made Hillary Swank proud. Tears and everything. The whole works. Olivia had taken a big swig of coffee, which ended up on Munch's desk. It was one of her better, unplanned moments, even if they had to hear their colleague complain about it all day. He could still smell the lemon-fresh scent of Lysol when he walked by.

_It's almost Halloween. Take a picture of your kids, okay? Sitting here in the park reminds me of those costumes people buy that resemble the homeless we see on the stoops in the city. What I wouldn't do for another shower. We pool our money together and rent a motel room and take turns. It's not the same, though. Sorry about that. I'm too far into this one to start over again._ Another arrow. There was a dark, crimson mark on the edge of the paper. He touched it with the tip of his finger. Scrunching his nose, he stared at it. He realized what it was and frowned. He would bet a week's pay that she'd refused stitches and had some gullible kid just patch it up. He considered it and another thought crossed his mind. Did she need further medical attention? Was she turned away from the hospital because she didn't have any money? It made sense that she'd go to a clinic. He swore and turned the paper over. He didn't want to look at that stain anymore.

_I changed my mind. Fred is more than a beta. He's a clown fish. What's the other fish in Nemo? The funny one that should be a clown fish? That probably didn't make sense, but I wrote in pen and I don't want to scratch it out. I don't know what difference it would make. This kind of looks like something we'd be taking to have analyzed. At least this letter doesn't have dirt all over it this time. It'll be a miracle if you can read it. I'm rambling now. I guess I've run out of things to say. I miss the interaction. I wish I could give you an address to write back to. I know you hate writing, though._ The penmanship got a little easier to read. The mood seemed different, as well. She must have taken a break. The randomness is still there. He'd started to use the phrase "well, that was random" a few months back. He remembered when it was, because he'd joked that a year from that date if she was still the same he was going to quit the force. He said he was getting too old to have to think so much. He found out later that day when she bought him lunch that Fin and Munch had paid her twenty bucks to never change. Said a fresh face would do them all some good. Truth be told, he didn't want her to change, either.

_I tried to make this one longer. I think the little town we're headed for is going to be the last one for a while. It'll be harder to get away but I'll manage. People are looking. I told them it was a diary. I haven't had one of those since I was in junior high school. I failed that part of the course. It seems so silly writing down things in your head; things that are supposed to stay there. It's a cheap form of therapy, I've been told. _He thought about the time Dickie had found Kathleen's diary and threatened to make copies and post it all over the boys' bathroom at school. He and Kathy had attacked on dual fronts. He'd handled "his son" while she talked their daughter from her room. It took nearly two hours before she'd even come out. Even after that, Kathleen had been inconsolable. He'd stood pressed against the wall, listening to her deepest fears of her brother knowing all that she'd written. Elliot had gone down the hall and searched for the diary while his son scowled away, arms crossed. When Elliot had found the diary hidden underneath the mattress of his son's bed, lock broken, he'd gone into his room and found the extra lockbox he'd kept for his old service weapon. He'd stuck the diary inside and closed the lid. With a bowl of ice cream and a smile, he'd brought it to his daughter along with a key so her most cherished feelings could be guarded once again.

_In case you didn't know, I'm an introvert. I hold things inside. The things in there, I don't even want to think about. Why would I want to write about them? Maybe I should have just made up some things. You know, what everyone else was actually dealing with. Cheating "boyfriends" and unfair parents. Even saying all that is going against all the rules of introvertedness. (Is that a word?) I've broken so many by now. What's another one, right? Yeah, so the journal thing. I think I made it through two entries. The third one we were supposed to have our parents sign so the teacher knew we were doing our work. Are journals not supposed to be a private account of our deepest feelings? Guess I had the wrong idea of what a journal was. I quit writing after that. I wouldn't have shown her and she wouldn't have been home to sign it, anyway._ The paragraph was longer, more in-depth. More feeling was put into that one. He read it over-and-over. He'd never known her to be a big talker about feelings or emotions. She'd let things build until the pressure got to be too big and everything came out all at once. Even then, she was careful about what she let slip. He marveled at how open she was when writing the letter. How easily her feelings came when forming the sentences that made up her thoughts. He made a mental note to get her a diary so that the feelings she did keep hidden could be transferred onto the paper. She wouldn't need to show anyone or think about what was on those pages ever again, if she didn't want to. Silly or not, in the back of his mind he was sure it was helping her more than she knew. He felt honored that she would share parts of her life with him in her letters. He hoped she slept better after she did. Wherever she was.

_The moon's not as bright tonight and the lamp post is flickering, so I guess that's a sign that I should probably quit for now. I'll send this in the morning. I think I see a drop box across the way by the newspaper stand. Not that you can see it. How's the partner?_ The last line hit him harder than any other. Partner. She was still his partner. He felt guilty for how he'd been referring to her. His old partner. As if she was anything other than his permanent partner. He wanted her back. Was she having second doubts about coming back? No, she said she missed back home. As selfish as it was, he wanted her to miss him. To have the same feeling of lethargy that could only come from the void that hung around long after someone left. The rut he seemed to be in was growing larger by the day. He was in a funk, and she was the only way out. He hated that he wanted her to be unhappy, too because then he'd know she really did miss him.

_See you soon, I hope. Keep the cold winter away, will you? I'm not ready to deal with the snow, yet. P/PJ._ The letter ended abruptly. She'd warned him, but he was so intent on reading that he'd forgotten. Not really forgotten. He remembered all she'd written from her letters. He just didn't want it to end. He wanted to know everything that she was going through. He sighed and returned the paper back to its envelope before flipping it over. He wished he knew his geography.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as he heard the mail hit the floor, Elliot shot up off the couch to retrieve it. Like the previous days, he scattered the envelopes, looking for one in particular. The moment he spotted it, he grinned, holding it up like a hard-earned trophy. He tore open the envelope, not even bothering to pick up the rest of the mail. He began reading as he made his way to the kitchen. He cursed when his coffee cup began to overflow. He quickly cleaned off the counter and breathed a sigh of relief when the letter remained dry. Slowly, he began to read. The first line was straight and to the point.

_I've been here a few days. By the time you get this, it'll be about a week or so. The people give us weird looks. I guess we're considered foreigners. The number of people in this town could fit inside a hotel back home. They even have one of those signs that says the population, like it'll never change. Do you think it's against the law to get pregnant here?_ Elliot scrunched his nose in disgust. He always hated small towns. His kids would be bored after the first few minutes.

_The sunrise is beautiful this time of year. It reminds me of a painting or something. I was never good at the art thing. I always wanted to sign up for an art class or two. _He grinned as he pictured Olivia standing there next to an easel with paint all over her face where she'd brushed a hand across her cheek. She'd turn the picture toward him, after several moments of badgering her to show him what she'd painted. When he finally got a peek, he'd be astonished. Amazed at how she was holding out on him all that time.

_They talk a lot here. I can hear them whispering. I shouldn't be so paranoid, but I know they wonder what our stories are. Why we're here. I can't pinpoint it, but something's off. Gut instinct._ Her instincts had usually been dead on. Woman's intuition? Something more? Even if she didn't know it, she was usually right on some level. He just never told her that. He'd heard once that no one ever loses if no one's keeping score. He thought of all the times he could have just relented, pushed his pride aside and told her she was right. The crimes they dealt with were serious. What did it matter if he was wrong?

_The police here, well the deputies or whatever they're called. Think Andy Griffith. It's nothing like I've seen. They take weekends off. If they have an emergency on the weekends, they have to call in the sheriff from the next county over. Pretty crazy, isn't it? It's almost like people plan their lives during the week in case something happens._ Elliot rolled his eyes. He scoffed at the lack of training and seriousness that small communities had. He didn't blame them. Some towns didn't have to worry about rapes and homicides. Sometimes the worst they saw was the old mill burning down because someone dropped their pipe in the stack of hay. Assuming they had hay. He was just going off of the postcards he'd seen of the wheat fields and hay bails. The occasional tumbleweed.

_Today, three people said hi to me. One opened a door the other two stopped me on the street. Can you believe it? It's kind of nice when people acknowledge that you exist._ Elliot let his mind wander to the time they'd been tracking someone down the subway stairs in Brooklyn. It had been icy and Olivia had fallen on the stairs leading to the platform. When he'd caught up with her, he'd been furious to see that people were stepping around her to get to their destinations. She'd joked around at the time that her pride was the only thing bruised, but she'd limped the entire day while he'd cursed all of New York.

_There's a county fair this weekend. I think I might go. I know it seems silly, but I guess it's the kid in me. All the houses are decorated for Halloween and kids are running all over the streets. I never thought I'd live in a world where you could let your children loose without worrying to death whether they'd make it back._ Small towns were like a novel where all the loose ends were tied up in the end. He was so thankful the time Olivia had knocked on his door one night with Dickie in tow. The poor kid had gotten separated from his friends at a comic book store and had been left behind. By some miracle, Olivia had been in Queens, on a Saturday, and had picked up the distraught child. Elliot had never been so scared in his life. He took a sip of his coffee and set the letter on the table as he willed his heart to slow down. He could still see the scared look on his son's face. All that night he'd held his son on the couch as the two guys watched movies. He couldn't bear to let him go.

_I ate lunch today for five dollars and sixty-three cents. I think it was the slice of cheese on my hamburger that put me over. I don't think I've paid that little for a meal before._ Elliot groaned as he remembered he'd forgotten to give Kathy money for the kids' lunches at school. He wished they were cheaper than they were. He was glad Olivia could eat a decent meal on what little the Feds were giving her.

_They have a radio station here. It's one of those Northern Exposure type of things. You know, the little one-man shows. It's playing in all the little shops here. The music isn't that good, but it's something to listen to; something to occupy my mind. Now I'm going to have these songs stuck in my head. They remind me of the one time I went to my grandmother's house as a kid. We never went back to her house. I never asked why, but I always wondered. _ Elliot had always taken the kids to his in-laws. Kathy's parents were always good with the kids and they were always begging to stay the night. He wondered what happened with Olivia's grandmother. Did she reject her like her own mother?

_There's even a newsletter. Every Friday afternoon the delivery boy takes it to all the homes and buildings for everyone to read. The news is slow here, as you can imagine. Did you know Colleen Caldwell lost her first tooth, and TJ Stewart is going to get his driver's permit? I hope he isn't expecting a Lexus. You should see the car lot here. I think it has maybe a dozen cars, all of which wouldn't last a day back East._ Elliot laughed when he thought of the story he'd told Olivia of the first time he learned to drive and how the instructor wore the brake out of the passenger side. Smoke had filled up the car by the time he'd rolled the window down. By the end of the story, Olivia had tears streaming down her face and had to excuse herself to fix her mascara.

_I wish I could shake this feeling that something was going to happen. I don't want to stay here but I don't want it to end badly. Don't tell anyone, but I'm kind of nervous. I wish you were here to tell me I'm just being paranoid. You know that anxious feeling where your stomach won't settle? I can't seem to calm my nerves. Maybe I'll splurge for some coffee today. I keep telling myself it'll be over soon. Somehow._ Elliot froze. She was scared. He'd wondered what was behind the words in her previous letters. What feeling was pouring out of her as she wrote. If she was scared, as her partner, he was terrified. He glanced over at where he'd set the envelope and found the familiar red circle. He had to find a way to get in touch with her.

_I was going to make this one longer but there's just not much going on here in the way of things to do. I'll let you know how the fair went. Tell the guys hi. P._ He realized there had been no funny banter, no joking, no mention of Fred. He stared at the letter wide-eyed, unable to formulate a thought as to what to do. With shaky hands, he set the letter down. He went to grab the envelope again when the phone rang.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I am so sorry this is so late. I meant to post it Tuesday, then work got crazy and hasn't stopped since. I'm finally taking a moment to breathe. At any rate, here's the last part of the story. Thanks for sticking around:)

Elliot fumbled with the phone, nearly dropping it onto the floor. He heard his name being called and hurried to answer whomever was on the other end.

"Elliot?" She repeated his name a second time. She sighed and went to hang up the phone when she heard him answer.

"Wait. Liv? Damnit!" Elliot frantically called out into the receiver, hoping she'd hear.

"This wasn't how I planned starting out this conversation." Her shoes scraped against the concrete as she made her way up the stairs.

"Yeah, well things for us rarely go as planned. You know that, Liv." He heard her heavy breathing and wondered what she was doing. Seconds later, he heard footsteps and listened as they got closer, forgetting that he was ignoring Olivia.

"Maybe I shouldn't have called." She regretted her decision the moment she heard him pick up. He sounded distant.

"Sorry. This is weird. It's been a while, ya' know?" He stared at the door and craned his neck to look under the small crack at the bottom. A shadow blocked the light from coming in.

"Yeah. I lost track after a while. You going to let your partner in?" She stood hopefully, waiting for him to open the door and let her back into his life.

"Aw, hell. I was expecting the postman." He tried to disengage the lock. He was thankful she couldn't see his shaking hands. He stood back to let her by and smiled as she crossed the threshold.

"Hey." She returned his smile and closed her phone. She laughed as he held the phone to his ear. Rolling her eyes, she took the receiver from him and hung up before placing it on the stand.

"Hey. It's a mess." He glanced around, wishing he'd cleaned. She was always giving him a hard time about his apartment being so messy. She said he didn't have a reason for it to be that way since he was never there.

"This is me being shocked. Mind if I sit?" She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Her calf muscles had become more defined from all the walking.

"You have to ask?" He took in her nervous expression, laced with a bit of fear. It was then that he realized all that was going through her mind. She was afraid of his rejection. He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to the couch.

"You didn't..." She quickened her pace and made it to the table in three strides. She plopped down on the couch and peered into the glass bowl.

"I get him every other weekend and on holidays. Break the agreement and I'm calling Casey." He'd been so incredibly decisive about which fish to get when he'd stopped by the pet store. He'd finally chosen the one that was paired up with a smaller one. It reminded him of Olivia and her innate ability to help those in need; the many sacrifices she made for the victims. He'd meticulously cleaned the bowl and let the water warm to room temperature. Once he'd deposited the fish into its home, something clicked. He'd taken care of it as if it was his own, and it could be the one thing that would bring them back together.

"I'll drop him by on Friday night to stay over, then. Thanks, El." She wanted to say so much more, but the words died on her tongue. The look in his eyes told her he understood. So much more than just a fish. He understood how much she wanted him to know that her job was on the line. She had to leave. She had returned, though. She'd been granted a week's vacation and had yet to catch up with him.

"I got you some things." He bent over the side of the couch and handed her a small, pink bag with tissue paper sticking out the top. He'd never been good at stuffing the paper. He laughed at her reaction to the color.

"You son of a bitch." She shook her head and tossed the paper aside.

"So I've been told." He smiled as her eyes fell on each item. He had a feeling she hadn't gotten many presents in her lifetime.

"You shouldn't…you didn't have to do that." She rifled through the contents and laid each one out.

"I wanted to. I don't want to hear you complaining about the coffee for at least a week." He'd set aside ten dollars each week to buy her a gift card. He couldn't imagine going without a decent cup of coffee as long as she had.

"I think I may use this." She didn't start to lose it until she found the very last item. She turned the small book over and inspected it. Words of wisdom were printed on the outer cover.

"You should. I want that signed, by the way." It amazed him that they'd gone so long without talking, yet their conversation seemed to pick up where they'd left off. He wondered why it was so awkward to begin with. They'd done it before. He nudged her with his shoulder. He knew she felt uncomfortable losing it in front of him. He'd seen her come close, but she was the epitome of composure.

"Mmm…this smells good. I love the smell of vanilla." She pressed the cap down and set the bottle of lotion to the side.

"It's more for my benefit, really. After reading about how infrequent you shower these days, I had to do something to mask the smell. You better use that or I'm going to Cragen. You'll end up with Munch; if he'll have you after what you did." He laughed as she started to rattle off a list of choice words.

"Very funny. You know you missed me." She grew serious as she thought of his new partner and all the times she wondered if he'd gotten used to her being gone.

"Maybe." He ran his fingernail over the wooden surface of the coffee table. Olivia had commented on the table and how it was too good of a table for him to not have any coasters.

"Has John forgiven me for going to the other side?" She regretted leaving her friends in the dark. Most of all, she hated that she felt like she was betraying them.

"You know Munch. He's since moved onto bigger and better conspiracies." He tried to lighten the mood, knowing that she was beating herself up.

"I have something for you, too. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a letter she'd written at the airport.

"You're getting into this writing thing. From now on, you're doing all the paperwork." He smiled and fingered the edge of the folded slip of paper. He tapped it on the palm of his hand and set it down on the coffee table.

"Yeah, don't read it now. That'll be awkward." She eyed the letter, knowing there was no going back.

"I'll read it at work and show the guys." He studied her expression and the blush that caressed her cheeks as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

"You do and you're dead." She feigned being angry and let out a laugh. It felt like old times. She propped her feet up on the coffee table and leaned back into the cushions of the couch.

"When's the last time someone took you out?" He watched her think and realized just how long it had been.

"I think an easier question would be when was the last time I didn't go out. A year or so ago, I think. No, wait. I didn't end up going out that night, so it's been a while. You buying?" She cocked her head, wondering what he was thinking.

"No, I offered so you could pay. Of course, I'm buying." He studied her with an amused expression at how she was making herself at home.

"Oh, shut it. It's comfortable." She laughed and smacked him on the arm.

"I didn't say a word. I want to live to see my next birthday, thanks. How's your hand?" He pointed to a small, raised portion of skin on her hand.

"Oh, it's fine. Just me being me. I didn't realize there was a broken bottle where I put my hand down. It took a while, but it finally healed." She flexed her fingers and turned her hand over.

"You get everything all wrapped up?" He didn't know how much she was allowed to divulge. The weeks he'd gone without any contact had made him think the worst. If she hadn't come when she did, he would have found a way to get to her.

"Yeah. I feel like I wasted six weeks of my life. I kind of caught a case while I was there, though. I keep wondering how long the poor girl would have suffered." She stared up at the ceiling, thoughtfully.

"She okay? The girl?" It never ceased to amaze him how she wound up in the middle of a case completely out of her jurisdiction. Her sixth sense paid off after all.

"She will be." She turned to him and raised her eyebrows. She almost added that they would be, as well.

Elliot merely nodded, letting her know he was listening. She was safe, that's all he cared about.

The silence lingered for what seemed like hours, until she finally spoke.

"So, when are we going out?"


End file.
